


Better Together, Always

by orphan_account



Series: Evenings on the Ground [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/F, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Realization, Romantic Friendship, Unity Day (The 100)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chancellor Griffin welcomes Commander Lexa, her attendants, and Ambassador Kane for their sixth Unity Day on the Ground. Revelations ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I generally like to let stories speak for themselves, but I just wanted to be very clear that regardless of what some may initially think when seeing the two pairings listed above, this is _not_ a story about Clarke trading up one person for the other. That's not what's going on here. :)
> 
> UPDATED 3/3/15: What I had planned has been jossed so irreparably, I don't feel inspired to continue this particular story. I'm leaving it up but closing it off at the current chapter count. Hopefully at some point I'll be inspired to write Clarke/Lexa again, but it will no doubt be a very different type of story. Sorry!

Clarke’s just finishing up a shift at the clinic. It’s something she still does now and again because it helps her keep an ear to the ground, helps her stay connected to the people she leads. Today she treated four head colds, two STDs, and a broken arm, and she’s exhausted by the time the next doctor comes to relieve her.

She pauses just outside the clinic and takes in the fresh air and sunlight with a deep sigh. After all these years it still has the power to strike her dumb, all the sensory inputs occasionally overwhelming and blowing the fuse box of a body grown in space. She closes her eyes for just a moment and takes it all in – the breeze on her face, the warmth of the sun, the powerful noise and smell of the earth.

When she opens her eyes again, she sees Bellamy.

He’d taken a group out on a three-day training exercise and they’re just getting back by the looks of it. The young men and women trudging back into Camp Jaha looking exhausted and beat to hell, but their heads are held high and most of them are smiling. She’s seen the look before; you can train people on the range as long as you want, but true camaraderie is built by adversity. She knows that lesson as well as Bellamy, who re-designed the training regime for recruits on the ground.

She watches the group for only a few seconds before her smile fades. The trainees jostle each other and trade laughs, and even a couple of the officers are bunching together with clear plans for the evening.

Bellamy, however, hangs back from them all. He doesn’t look any different than he usually does, not angry or depressed. In fact, other than looking a little tired, he looks completely normal.

So she’s not sure what sends the thought skittering across her mind that Bellamy is the loneliest person she’s ever known.

Clarke lives just a door down from him on the first avenue of small cabins they'd built a few years ago, and she tries to remember the last time she saw him socialize with someone other than his sister, herself, or Raven. She tries to remember the last time she saw him really _with_ someone; even Bellamy used to let off some steam with sex. She searches her memory but comes up blank.

Bellamy had always been isolated, she knew that. Even when they were teenagers and first tossed down to the Ground, he’d only wielded other people for a purpose – stoking the other’s spirits and rebellion to insure the Ark didn’t follow them down and kill him. She thought he'd made progress, somewhere in her gut she'd felt this, but suddenly the evidence seems shaky. 

For the moment, she shakes the thoughts off and straightens up. Tomorrow’s Unity Day and there are still a lot of preparations to make— among them arrangements for the Woods Clan’s visit.

Clarke is looking forward to seeing Lexa.

—

It’s become a bit of tradition, the Commander and a small retinue celebrating Unity Day with the people of the Ark.

Some people had protested the presence of the outsiders back when they first attended right after the war with the Mountain, but Clarke had pointed out that the previous Unity Day was the first time they’d ever thought about peace between their peoples, and that every peace begins with just one thought. (Octavia had been the one to come up the line; for a girl raised in isolation she’d turned out to have great political acumen.) That Unity Day had passed without incident, as had every subsequent one.

Clarke had always liked Unity Day, and now she had one more reason. It was one of the very few times in a year she and Lexa could meet without the trappings of regional politics and diplomacy weighing down their every moment together.

A Chancellor takes her pleasures when she can get them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

About an hour before dusk, the call comes over the camp that a group has emerged from the tree line and is approaching. By the time the travelers reach the gates, a large crowd has gathered to greet them, Clarke at the forefront.

Bellamy slips forward and joins her. He's got his sidearm on, but he keeps his arms folded peaceably. He glances down at Clarke for a moment, just checking in, and raises his eyebrows when she looks back curiously.

“Something wrong, Princess?” He's the only person who still occasionally calls her that and always with that slightly ironic lilt. It's all part of the front he maintains, like the idea that he doesn't take orders from her. It's something they both know is untrue but she welcomes all the same. Given their history, it would feel wrong to completely strip away the veneer.

“Nothing – how did the training exercise go?” She turns back to the approaching group so as to not reveal her consternation. If she couldn't yet explain it to herself, she certainly wasn't going to bother Bellamy about it.

“Good enough,” he says. “A few more like that, and they might not be a waste of the artillery.”

Clarke smiles and reminds him, “You've trained worse.” A couple dozen terrified, hungry teenagers with no experience, to be exact. They're both thinking it.

He nods and the sun behind his head makes the look he gives her hard to read, “Survival is a potent motivator, Clarke. The current recruits have gotten complacent.”

“Bellamy, are you complaining about our carefully-brokered peace?” She almost laughs at the thought. The gates are opening and the Grounders are entering the camp, Lexa at the forefront, high and proud on her horse.

“Not complaining, but can't I at least admit it's boring?” He murmurs.

She nudges his arm and says, mind still half on her earlier thoughts, “Well tomorrow's Unity Day, maybe you can find someone and relieve that boredom.”

She notices he doesn't reply, not even with a smile, but then she is turning to perform her welcoming duty as Chancellor and old friend.

Lexa looks down at her, all Commander composure with a secret smile lurking behind her eyes. Clarke raises her chin and smiles back.

Immediately following Lexa comes Marcus Kane on a horse, looking tan and hale, dressed in a mixture of Ark and Grounder clothing. Clarke watches him look over the crowd and zero in on her mother where she stands leaning against the door of the clinic building. The expressions on their faces are either a comedy of errors or a tragedy of circumstances.

Clarke tries to keep out of her mother's private life as much as possible, but even she has to wonder what went down between them. The dust had barely settled on the war with the Mountain when Kane accepted a position as Ambassador to the Grounders and Jaha set out West on a vague mission of emissary. Abby had responded with a strange mixture of relief and grief and thrown herself into building up the camp clinic.

They'd gotten three newly trained doctors out of her efforts, so Clarke hadn't pried too much at the time. Their relationship was still a little rocky; most attempts at reminiscing were aborted the moment they stumbled over the unavoidable absence of the third party in their memories.

Those who are on horses dismount as one. Clarke waits until Lexa's feet are on the ground, on her level, before saying in a carrying voice, “Welcome, Commander Lexa and company. We are thankful for your presence at Unity Day and the continuing friendship of the Woods Clan.”

Lexa replies in Trigedasleng, and it's the sign for the crowd to break lines and intermingle. Voices rise in welcoming shouts and laughter, old friends slapping backs and hugging, Trigedasleng mixing with English in a joyous chorus.

Clarke doesn't see Bellamy again until the feast; he has disappeared from the crowd.

–

That first night after the welcoming ceremony and feast, when the revelry has become sufficiently raucous, Clarke makes her way to Lexa's tent.

The first year after the inaugural joint Unity Day, Clarke had tried to invite Lexa to take the relatively lavish accommodations they'd arranged for her to no avail – she'd preferred to set her tent up alongside the rest of her people. The sight of a miniature Grounder encampment within the grounds of Camp Jaha had almost set off another political crisis among the people of the Ark, but with some quick thinking from Octavia, they'd moved the feast tables and festivities outside. Those that remained of the initial 100 were reminded of their first Unity Day on the Ground, the resulting good spirits spread, and it all smoothed over in the end.

Now Clarke slips past the Commander's guards with a smile and a nod, and Lexa stands to meet her the moments she enters the tent.

They hug tightly for a long moment and then stand with their arms clasped, studying each other for changes. Lexa's hair and face paint are gratifyingly unrestrained and light. She looks well-rested and healthy.

Clarke still remembers three years ago when one of the clans had tried to break away from the coalition. Lexa had still attended the Unity Day celebration, but her tent had been dominated by a war table and she'd slept only a few hours in Clarke's arms before she was up again, conferring with her advisors.

“You look worried,” Lexa says after a thorough examination. “Why?”

Clarke grimaces slightly, only a little surprised that she'd noticed.

“Is something wrong? Are you being challenged?” She didn't bother asking about troubles with other groups in the area; she was kept appraised of all developments within a couple hundred miles.

“No – no, nothing like that.” Clarke steps back, and Lexa's eyebrows knit together but she allows it. Clarke runs a hand through her hair and eventually just shakes her head. “I'll let you know when I've figured it out.”

Lexa accepts this without question; she knows Clarke's need to think things through on her own. After a moment she nods towards her table.

“Let's sit,” she says. “And I'll tell you about how Marina's coming along.” Marina is Lexa's chosen successor – a fourteen-year-old from the Ice Clan. Her slow assimilation to Lexa's company had produced many good stories.

Clarke sits and listens, basking for a while in the unquestioning presence of someone who understands her perfectly.

–

The night moves on, and they both play off the feeling, enjoying the building tension and lingering touches. As much as she stands wholly apart in public, when they are alone, Lexa likes to lay claim to Clarke. She rests her hand on her arm, shoulder, or thigh – almost absent-mindedly until the tension reaches its breaking point.

When Lexa takes her to bed, she likes to strip them both methodically. There's a simple economy to her movements even in seduction that Clarke finds endearing. And she found out years ago that helping her out of her armor, slowly revealing her the true lines of her body, could be surprisingly erotic.

Naked, Lexa is a different person altogether. Lithe and scarred, she is at once more vulnerable and more threatening than at any other time.

“You always think too much,” she says drily and shoves Clarke back on the bed.

Clarke gasps and reaches out, dragging her down so they're pressed together, hip-to-hip and chest-to-chest in a glorious congruity. Lexa grins over her throat, buries her hand deep into Clarke's hair, and pulls her in for a long kiss. On the wrist running down Lexa's back, Clarke's watch chirps out midnight.

Clarke loves Unity Day.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke wakes up to an empty bed. Smoothing her hand down, she feels a lingering warmth in the bedding and opens her eyes to find Lexa naked a few feet away, doing her morning exercises in the pale light of the early morning.

She sighs and burrows into the deliciously warm vacated spot that still smells of Lexa. “What time is it?”

Lexa tips forward to balance her knees on her elbows and smiles at her while upside down. “Still early, you can sleep a while longer if you want.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you?” It wasn't exactly a come-on but honest appreciation. Lexa's morning routine was a mix of Grounder strength-building and some stretches Clarke had taught her. The other woman was limber but prone to straining her knees and ankles; as her some-times doctor, Clarke felt obligated to help where she could. Plus, okay, she liked watching Lexa twist and bend.

Lexa lifts her knees up into a full hand stand and shuffles across the floor on her hands until she's near enough to tip back onto the bed. Clarke moves her legs out of the way just long enough for her to softly land. Then she reaches over to pull her closer.

Lexa's skin is thrumming hot and damp with the morning's exertion. Clarke presses her mouth to the hollow of her throat and tastes the clean sweat there while slipping her hand down the curve of her back. Lexa moans softly and presses her forehead to Clarke's shoulder.

“You're a terrible distraction,” she says.

“Distraction?” Clarke squeezes lightly and shuffles her legs around to a more promising configuration. She grins up her. “I thought you said it was still early.”

“Early for _you_ ,” Lexa says, her hands wandering despite her protesting words. “But I agreed to do a demonstration with your Blakes last night.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Both of them? What kind of demonstration?”

Lexa strokes her hip and says absently, “The traditional – accuracy, strength, disarming, hand-to-hand. Octavia wants to try her hand in the games later on, and Bellamy wants me to show his trainees a few techniques.”

Clarke hums thoughtfully for a few seconds before mentally giving in and asking, “Did he seem – off, at all? Bellamy?”

“'Off'?”

“Distracted?” Clarke offers and then, “...Unhappy?”

Lexa stops moving and tilts her head in consideration. “We discussed his training and after a couple more drinks he started trying to convince me to do another War Game.” She shrugs. “So the same as always, I think. Why?”

Clarke hits her head back against the pillow in slightly frustration at herself. “I don't know. It's just a thought I can't get out of my head, something's up with him.”

She looks down at Clarke curiously. “Is it... interfering with his duties?”

“What? No,” she says. “That's not it.”

“Then you should let it be,” Lexa says decisively, nodding.

“He's one of my closest friends,” Clarke says, a little bleakly. “And I don't like the idea of my friend hurting.”

Lexa smiles, a little sad, and reaches up to thumb the creased space in between her eyebrows, where she's always said Clarke carries her worry. “You're a good friend, Clarke. If he has a problem that you can do something about, I'm sure you'll know it. Now,” she says, resolutely switching tones and sliding purposefully down the length of Clarke's body. “I have fifteen minutes before I'll be missed on the yard.”

Slender callused fingers wrap around the curve of her thighs and ease them open. Clarke's mouth falls open. “I'm sure that's plenty of time for – ” Clarke's voice gives out before she can finish her sentence.

Lexa is ten minutes late to the demonstration.

–

After a nap and a shower, Clarke makes her way to breakfast.

Preparations for some of the day's activities are still underway around the camp grounds, and while there is a buzz of excitement in the air, the mess tables are dominated by a pleasantly sleepy (and occasionally hungover) mood. Clarke accepts her bowl of porridge and fruit and after a quick glance around spies Raven at an empty table. Her own breakfast sits half-abandoned at her elbow while she fiddles with a mechanical part.

She looks up as Clarke arrives and gives her a small smile in acknowledgement before returning her attention to the part. Clarke starts to eat her breakfast and generally basks in the warmth and anticipation of the day for a few blessedly silent minutes.

Raven's never really warmed up to the Grounders, not in the way the others have. She once told Clarke that she'd built too many weapons and lost too much to be able to change how she felt about them.

She tolerated their presence quietly, but Unity Day used to be a particularly rough time for her. She'd grown up spending every celebration with Finn, and the double weight of his absence and the Grounders' presence had been almost too much to handle the first year after the war. Things had gotten immensely easier when she and Jasper rediscovered how to make fireworks, and now she spends all her time around the holiday working on creating increasingly complex firing devices to go with Jasper's pyrotechnic concoctions.

Eventually Raven sets the part aside with a satisfied noise and picks up her breakfast bowl again. Clarke accepts this as a sign and starts drawing her out, trying to get hints about what the fireworks for the night would be.

“I feel like as a matter of security, I should know,” she tries.

Raven snorts and shakes her head, her lips curved in a slight smirk. “Sorry, but even the Chancellor doesn't have a clearance rating for this. Just enjoy the surprise, all right?”

Clarke purses her lips but relents. She doesn't really want to know about the big finale; the fireworks were her favorite part of the night and Raven knew it.

As they chat, she thinks about asking Raven the same question she posed earlier to Lexa. Raven, after all, is closer to Bellamy than any one else in the camp except Octavia. When Clarke tries to think back to their first days on the ground, she can't recall how or even when exactly _that_ happened – it's like one day she just looked up and the two of them had a connection. She asked Raven about it once and the other girl had shrugged and said simply, _we just get each other._

That should make Raven the perfect person to prod for information about Bellamy, but something holds Clarke back. It's only after she has said goodbye and headed off to the clinic that she realizes what it is:

If it came down to a choice, which it never will, she knew (and accepted) that Raven's personal loyalty belonged to Bellamy. This didn't bother her, but her own reasoning did – somehow Clarke's gut knew Raven wouldn't tell her what was bothering him. Which meant that _Clarke_ somehow, somewhere in her subconscious, had an inkling of what it might be.

Good mood from the morning all but submerged under a wave of irritation at herself, she enters the clinic for her half-shift.

–

She works for three hours – mostly patching up scratches and prodding bruises from camp children over-eager to match themselves against their Woods Clan counterparts. She's just finished delivering her fifth lecture of the morning about how their visitors start training to fight from the age of seven when Abby comes to take over for a few hours.

Clarke flashes her a smile and turns to hang up her coat. When she's turned back around her mother has been joined by a quietly but intensely exasperated Marcus Kane.

“ – after everything, how was I supposed to _know_? We didn't exactly ever sit down and talk about it.”

“No,” Abby returns sharply, her eyes narrowed and locked on his. “Why would we talk about anything when you were always instantly ready with a course of action, never mind the consequences, never mind _other people_ – ”

“All I have _ever_ _done_ has been for other people,” Kane says, his voice barely more than a harsh whisper as he moves to loom over Abby. Clarke frowns and steps forward. “But now I'm _telling_ you – Clarke.” Kane straightens and takes a neat step backwards, face wiped smooth and hands clasped behind his back. He doesn't bother to cover the moment with a pleasant lie and even seems to be waiting for her to leave.

She gives him an unimpressed look and says to her mother, “Is there a problem? Do you need me to get a guard?”

Abby's face betrays startlement for barely a second before she covers it and shakes her head. “No, Clarke, thank you, but that won't be necessary.” When Clarke hesitates, she says more firmly, “Really. Now _both_ of you get out, I have a shift to run.”

And Clarke hasn't been an obedient daughter in what sometimes feels like forever, but today she listens.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always dearly appreciated!


End file.
